CHAPTER XX. GOES FOR WOOL, AND GETS SHORN.

The graveyard to which Rich now directed his steps was the original burying-place of the town; but another having been provided, in a more central location, it had been little used for years, and was overgrown with bushes and sweet fern, an occasional spruce or hemlock assuming almost the dimensions of a tree.

Narrow, in proportion to its breadth, one end of the lot approached the main road, the intervening space being level, and clear of obstructions, except near the gate, where the wall was fringed with spruce, sumach, and hazel bushes, a very dense clump of spruce and dwarf birch growing just beside the main entrance.

Notwithstanding the lonely situation and neglected aspect of the place, there were many very handsome monuments scattered over its surface. But the hands that reared them were mouldering in the dust, and their descendants, becoming interested in the new cemetery, the ancient graveyard seemed likely to return to its original state of [Pg 223]forest, and that indeed at no distant period, being already enclosed on three sides by a growth of majestic pines, whose roots, in several places, had flung down the wall. A few rods beyond the main entrance, the road, making a sharp turn, led up a hill.

Far removed from any habitation or sound of busy life, this resting-place of the departed lay reposing in the clear moonlight that seemed to embrace it, silvering with its wavy light the rough walls, the monuments of the dead, and the foliage, bathed in dew. So deep was the stillness, that the slow and painful tread of Rich on the hard-beaten road was distinctly audible.

He was about half way from the road to the gate, when all at once rang out with startling effect upon the still air,—

"Come here to me. What are you hangin' off there for, old Bright? Come here to me, or I'll put the cold iron into your liver."

The next moment his ears were greeted with that peculiar slat and jingle that ensues when the tongue cattle on the top of a hill throw up their heads in order to hold back a heavy load.

"Good heavens!" thought Rich; "I am beset indeed. It is Sam Waterhouse, with his four-ox team."

Regardless of his lame foot, he crept into the bunch of bushes near the gate, with the box and shovel. In a few moments a large dog came up[Pg 224] the hill, followed by Sam, who stopped his cattle opposite the gate, to let them breathe. The dog, in the mean time running along the road, came upon Richardson's track, and following it up to the bushes, began to bark furiously. Fearing discovery, Rich crept along through the scattering bushes, into the thicker growth, still proceeding in a line parallel with the main road, and not far from it. The dog, however, continued to follow, barking so furiously, that Rich, afraid that Waterhouse would come to see what the dog was barking at, stepped out into the road without attracting the notice of Sam, till he was within a few feet of him, who, supposing him to have come by the road from the village, exclaimed,—

"Good evenin', Mr. Richardson; or, ruther, mornin'; for I reckon it's mighty near daybreak. I was jest thinkin' of goin' ter see what the dog was barkin' at; thought may be 'twas a coon; they're apt to be out these moonlight nights; but I s'pose 'twas you he hearn. Didn't 'spect ter run foul o' you, this time in the mornin'. S'pose you had a sudden call. Doctors and teamsters, they must kalkerlate to be broke o' their rest, and folks say you're gettin' ter be quite a doctor, and Dr. Ryan speaks master well o' you."

"Sick and dying time, Mr. Waterhouse," said Rich, wishing to turn the conversation from himself, and not heeding the question of the other; "I wonder you should be going away with a team[Pg 225] when young Coolbroth is to be buried to-morrow."

"Wouldn't have gone for anything. 'Tain't to save money, nor 'arn money, but I'd 'greed to deliver these ere shooks, and was 'bleeged ter. Seems to me you limp. I can't see quite so well as I used ter, 'specially in the night, but I thought you favored that left foot somewhat."

"Yes; I have a sore foot."

"Jammed it? Jammed the nail off? 'Cause, if ye have, there's nothin' so good to take the soreness out as mullein leaves, steeped in new rum."

"I stepped into a rat trap in the dark."

"My songs! that's dreadful bad. Might give you the lockjaw. There's nothin' 'll take that ere iron rust out o' the flesh like the marrer (marrow) of a hog's jaw."

"I don't doubt it," said Rich, to whom this prosing was perfect agony; "but I must go on."

"So must I. Back, Bright! Her, Buck, up! Stan' up there, old Star."

Rich made as though he would have gone on, and soon enjoyed the satisfaction of hearing the sound of Sam's wheels die away in the distance; but when he again recovered his box and shovel, the gray light was streaking the eastern sky.

Flinging off both coat and vest, he strained every nerve to dig a hole in which to deposit the box at the same depth, and in the same place as before. In momentary expectation of seeing Pollard arrive,[Pg 226] he exerted himself till the sweat trickled down his cheeks, for, whenever he stopped to take breath, the early birds were singing in the trees around him.

He had scarcely time to deposit the last shovelful, and congratulate himself upon his success, when the sound of wheels was heard rapidly approaching, and Pollard, accompanied by another person, drove up to the graveyard gate.
In the Graveyard

In the Graveyard. Page 226.

Crouching behind tombstones and bushes, he crept on his hands and knees to the back wall, and not daring to clamber over for fear of being seen, pushed out the stones, and made his way through the gap into the woods, as Pollard and his assistant reached the spot he had just left.

Hiding his shovel in the woods, not daring to take it, lest he should meet some early riser, Rich, in pain and perturbation, limped through fields and pastures, till he at length, to his great delight and relief, reached his boarding-place.

But his troubles were not ended. Every door was fastened. He could not, with his lame foot, and entirely exhausted, clamber up the spout to his room, and Rover began to bark in the porch, where he slept, with a violence that Rich knew would soon awaken the whole family.

Mrs. Clemens was very particular—extremely so—in respect to fastening the doors at night, and there was no outbuilding to which Rich could obtain access except the pig-sty. That was merely[Pg 227] buttoned on the outside. But this was too far from the house to suit his purpose, and moreover, exposed to the observation of Dan, while milking, who was always the first one up in the house.

Dan was full of energy. His custom was to wake early, go directly to the barn-yard, milk, bring the milk in, call the girl to strain it, and then start off with the cows to pasture, returning by breakfast time. Rich was familiar with the habits of Dan, and while deliberating with respect to some place of concealment, was startled by hearing him shove back the bolt of the end door. Close to the steps grew a large lilac bush, and near that was a pile of apple-tree brush that had been hauled out of the orchard. Rich ran behind the pile, and crouched to the ground, watching Dan as he came out, rubbing his eyes, and the moment he saw him sit down to a cow, crawled through the lilac bush, and stole quietly to his room. Pulling off the boot, he washed the gravel and dust from his foot, flung himself upon the bed, and sank into a slumber so profound that Dan, unable to arouse his teacher, at breakfast time, by knocking on the door, was compelled to enter, and shake him.

It seemed, indeed, as though the complications connected with this fruitless undertaking were never to have an end. Scarcely were they seated at the breakfast table, when Mrs. Clemens observed—

"Mr. Richardson, you look pale and worn out. I fear you passed a sleepless night. Daniel said[Pg 228] you were lying on the outside of the bed, with your clothes on, when he went to call you. Will you not have an alum curd on your foot this morning? It is so cleansing."

"I think there is no need, Mrs. Clemens. A bruise in that place must be more or less painful for a time. I slept very soundly indeed this morning."

"Well, I shall insist upon Daniel's taking you to school with the horse. He is in the barn."

"You are very kind, and I shall esteem it a great favor; and if you please I will take a luncheon, and Daniel can bring me back at night; for I scarcely feel equal to the walk."

No sooner was this offer disposed of than Dan said,—

"Mother, did you hear anybody prowling round the house last night?"

"No, my dear: why do you ask?"

"Because the shovel is gone; somebody must have stole it."

"Perhaps it is mislaid."

"No, it ain't; I have looked everywhere. I wanted it to clean the barn."

"I heard Rover barking dreadfully this morning; it waked me up. Did you hear anybody round the house, Mr. Richardson? Being kept awake by your wound, you would be more likely to hear any strange noise."

"Well, Mrs. Clemens,—ahem!—indeed, I think[Pg 229] there was some one went out of the yard last night."

"That's it, mother; and that's who Rover was barking at."

"But how could they get into the barn?"

"They might have a key, and unlock the padlock. Most anything will unlock a padlock. But you must get another shovel, mother."

"We will wait awhile. It may come to light,—might get into that load of hay I sold,—be pitched up out of the floor with the hay. Mr. Richardson, your face seems flushed; does your foot pain you?"

"No, ma'am; it is quite easy now."

The excessive soreness of Richardson's foot was occasioned by his use, or rather abuse of it. But it recovered rapidly as soon as he began to afford it rest, and make the proper applications. After enjoying a good night's sleep, he told Mrs. Clemens he would like the loan of the horse, to ride over to the next town after school at night, call on Perk, and return in the evening. The next morning, when Dan went to feed the pigs, the shovel was lying in the pig's bed, half covered in straw.

"I told you it would come to light, Daniel. You used it to clean the pig-pen, and left it there. The pigs threw it down, and rooted the straw over it."

"I didn't, mother. Haven't cleaned the pig-pen. Mr. Richardson does that; I am afraid of[Pg 230] the pigs. Somebody stole it, and brought it back."

"Borrowed it, you mean, my dear. You should never make such accusations."

Dr. Ryan laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks when, some time afterwards, Rich told him the result of his efforts to obtain the leg.

"It is the first time I ever attempted anything of the kind," said Rich; "it shall be the last. I'll stick to dogs, cats, and rabbits till I have money to procure what I need."